


Spontaneous

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: Begging, Established Relationship, F/F, Multiple Orgasms, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-23 02:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12496984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Ryuko doesn’t back down from a challenge, doesn’t give in to exhaustion and give up and go home; she grits her teeth, and digs in her heels, and stands her ground against all comers. And of course, this is all rendered absolutely useless when compared to her girlfriend’s stamina." Ryuko tests her determination against Mako's unswerving enthusiasm and finds them both to be winners.





	Spontaneous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluenarcbird](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bluenarcbird).



Ryuko has always thought of herself as a tough girl.

It kind of goes with the revenge territory, she thinks. If she’s going to take on an epic quest to find her father’s murderer and avenge his death at her own determined hand, she can hardly balk and collapse at the first sign of struggle. She’s built up her strength, and perfected her persona, and when it comes down to it she thinks she’s worth at least even odds against anyone, up to and most definitely including the great Kiryuin Satsuki. Ryuko doesn’t back down from a challenge, doesn’t give in to exhaustion and give up and go home; she grits her teeth, and digs in her heels, and stands her ground against all comers.

And of course, this is all rendered absolutely useless when compared to her girlfriend’s stamina.

“ _Oh_ ,” Mako wails, not for the first time; her voice has been climbing its natural register as if scaling a ladder for what Ryuko would bet has been a solid hour. Ryuko isn’t sure how she is even able to hear the sounds Mako is making; by any rights they ought to be impossible for human ears to make out. Maybe she has the life fibers to thank for her continued ability to piece together the other girl’s words; she’s not sure at present if that’s a blessing or a curse. “Oh, oh,  _oh_!” Mako’s head is tipped back as far as it will go, her hair spilling into a halo over the pillow underneath her; her legs are spread wide, her heels bracing against the mattress beneath the pair of them while her knees cant in as if to grant some level of modesty to the frantic speed of the fingers she has pressing hard against her clit. “Ryuko-chan,  _don’t_  stop, I’m close.”

“I’m not stopping,” Ryuko protests; but she does reach out with her free hand to brace herself against Mako’s tipped-in knee just to give herself something to push against to counterbalance the press of the paired fingers she has thrusting hard into the other girl. “Jesus, don’t you  _ever_  get tired?”

Mako’s head pops up without any perceptible pause between her full-throated wail of pleasure and the wide-eyed attention she turns on Ryuko. “Nope!” she says. “I could do this all day!” Her gaze flickers down over Ryuko, taking in the angle of the other girl’s hunched shoulders and, Ryuko can only assume, the exhaustion lining every part of her expression; and then she moves as quickly as she lifted her head to push up on her elbow and pull back and away from Ryuko’s touch. Ryuko is left stalled mid-rhythm, slick fingers still pressed together and hovering in the air between Mako’s knees; Mako doesn’t even hesitate in sitting up entirely and letting her knees fall wide over the sheets of the bed.

“Do you want to come again?” she asks, pulling her hand away from her work on herself so she can reach out to clasp her hold around Ryuko’s stalled-still hand as if that was her intent all along. “It’s been a little while. I could take a break and get you off instead!”

Ryuko huffs an exhale that sounds a little bit like exasperation and a little bit like a half-formed laugh. She’s not sure which side she’s leaning towards even after she hears the sound in her own ears. “I already came once,” she protests, rocking back over her heels and letting her hand relax into Mako’s hold. “I’m fine, really.”

“ _Only_  once,” Mako corrects her, her eyes wide and expression clear of even the faintest hint of sarcasm. “While you’ve gotten  _me_  off…” she pauses, looking down and frowning as she counts on the fingers of her free hand as her lips move silently. Ryuko watches her go through all five fingers, watches Mako’s forehead crease on consideration as she comes to the end; and watches her lift her head and wave her hand as if she’s sweeping aside the subject physically. “A lot of times!”

“A  _lot_  of times,” Ryuko says. There’s a little bit of a bite on the words -- it’s hard to strip the edge from her throat when her shoulder and arm are aching as badly as they are -- but it’s very hard to hold to even minimal irritation when Mako is blinking those big brown eyes up at her as if she’s seeing Ryuko for the first time and just as star-struck by affection now as she was then. Ryuko heaves a sigh and shrugs to dismiss the subject. “Whatever. I still owe you at least one more, I don’t want to leave you unsatisfied.”

Mako shakes her head with enough force to flip her hair in a wave around her face. “It’s not me we’re worrying about here!” she says, and she draws her hand free of Ryuko’s without waiting for the other girl to react, even if Ryuko knew what it is she might offer in reply to this. “We’re talking about you!” and she reaches out to brace both hands at Ryuko’s shoulders and pushes hard to urge the other girl backwards. Ryuko likes to think she’d be able to shrug off Mako’s force if she were on her feet, and well-rested, and expecting it; but none of these are true at the moment, and in actual fact what ends up happening is she topples backwards with a yelp that skips up right into the range of undignified as she falls back with her girlfriend right on top of her. Mako doesn’t let go of Ryuko’s shoulders even as they go down, which results in them landing with the full weight of Mako solidly atop Ryuko, and she’s not all that large of a girl but she has enough mass to blow the wind out of Ryuko in a huff of an exhale that completely undoes whatever lingering remnants of composure she might have had left to her. Ryuko is left on her back across the bed, sprawling over the sheets and blinking up at the ceiling, while over her Mako bounces up with her usual interminable enthusiasm and no sign at all of feeling the effects of their fall.

“I’m going to take care of this,” Mako says, with so much focus in her tone and expression that Ryuko has no doubt at all of her ability to follow through on what honestly sounds more like a threat than the promise it probably ought to seem. “You just lie right there and Mako will look after you!”

“Okay,” Ryuko says. She might put up more protest in other circumstances -- lying still isn’t exactly her style, even when it’s for such a good cause -- but she’s still a little winded from Mako’s reckless leap a moment before, and now that she’s on her back it’s hard to ignore how good the support of the mattress feels under her aching shoulder. Mako ducks her head into agreement so aggressive it sends her hair sweeping like a wave in front of her face; and then she’s sliding back over the bed, working backwards over her knees to settle herself between the angle of Ryuko’s legs, and Ryuko is left to tip her chin down so she can try to make an ill-informed judgment about what Mako is doing. It ought to be an easy task -- there’s a somewhat limited number of options, given the other girl’s stated intent -- but Ryuko has learned that there are some things one should never take for granted with Mako, and those things drastically increase in number when it comes to the bedroom. Mako might be about to come out with some new toy of improbable size or unnatural design, or maybe she’ll produce a bottle of chocolate sauce or whipped cream from some hiding spot Ryuko can’t guess at, given the sheer amount of skin the other girl currently has on display. Ryuko keeps an eye on her all the same, feeling her shoulders tense with uncertainty as her mind skips from one unlikely conclusion to the next; until, finally, when Mako says, “I’m going to go down on you!” Ryuko is almost more relieved than anything else at the sheer simplicity of the decision.

“I told you,” she says, attempting protest even knowing how weak the words sound even to her own ears with all the strength stripped from them by the unexpectedly normal approach Mako has apparently taken to getting her girlfriend off. “You really don’t have to do anything, I’m fine.”

“I don’t want you to be fine,” Mako says without so much as a flicker in the bright-eyed cheer glowing in her face. “I want you to be  _great_.” She says it with such complete sincerity that Ryuko can’t even find the voice to muster an argument to that; and then she smiles, and her whole face dimples into delight so bright that Ryuko loses her grasp on her breathing entirely, as if the sun has suddenly appeared inside the shut-door space of her bedroom.

“Just like me!” Mako says, chirping over the words like she doesn’t notice the way Ryuko is gaping shock up at her; and then she ducks her head and drops to sprawl across the sheets with the same abandon she has used with every other motion she has taken so far. Ryuko wonders what it would take to strip even the leading edge off Mako’s energy. Maybe six meals in a day, or twice that many orgasms. Maybe both together. It would certainly require more physical and mental stamina than Ryuko has in her, that’s for sure; and then Mako’s hands are pressing against the inside of Ryuko’s knees, and her palms are sliding gently up the inside line of the other girl’s thighs, and Ryuko is huffing an exhale of far more heat than she intended to offer just from the friction of Mako’s hands on her.

“Ohh,” Mako hums, sounding bright and delighted as she lifts her gaze to blink owlishly at Ryuko at the other end of the bed. “Does that feel good?” She draws her hands down by an inch to slide them back up again; Ryuko can feel the soft heat of the other girl’s palms like electricity running up her thighs, prickling across her body to pool low down in the depth of her belly and heat the flare of blood under her skin. “It does, doesn’t it? You’re getting all pink and shaky.”

Ryuko groans protest in the back of her throat and lifts her arm to cover the color she can feel rising to stain her cheeks. “Shut up, don’t say that.”

“But you are.” Mako’s hands are still continuing their wanderings; Ryuko can feel herself flushing warmer in spite of herself. She wonders if Mako can tell that too, if the heat under her skin is as clear to the other girl’s gaze as it feels to her. “It’s nice, I like it!”

“Oh good,” Ryuko says from under her arm. “At least one of us does.” The words come out with a little more of a bite than she intended to give them -- it’s the strain in her chest as much as the truth of irritation snapping at her tongue -- but Mako doesn’t so much as hesitate in the upward slide of her hands.

“This’ll be fun!” she insists, as her hands push up to brace against the highest angle of Ryuko’s thighs and press to urge the other girl’s legs apart. Ryuko grimaces at the motion -- it’s always at least a little bit embarrassing, to have herself laid so open to view while Mako is precisely at eye level with her -- but Mako’s humming before Ryuko can put voice to any more acerbic protest, and the heat of the other girl’s exhale against her skin is enough to shudder in Ryuko’s legs and scatter her attention entirely away from the self-consciousness she was veering towards.

“Just relax,” Mako suggests, still swinging the words up towards the exclamation point she prefers instead of the calmer tone of a period. “You don’t need to be so tense!” Ryuko knows that -- it’s obvious, there’s no need to be so jumpy just because Mako is leaning between her thighs -- but she can no more help the tension straining along her spine than she can calm the adrenaline-rush of her heart pounding in her chest. There’s no real protest she can give: after all, Mako’s right, and the fact that Ryuko has no chance at all of doing as she suggests is as much a fixed point as the cheer in Mako’s voice. So Ryuko just sighs what she knows as resignation and hopes passes for surrender, and presses her arm closer over her embarrassment-flushed face as she tries not to think too much about the picture she’s making for Mako.

Mako doesn’t say anything else. Ryuko isn’t sure if that’s a function of distraction or, judging from the way the other girl’s touch is running up over the tremor of her thighs, perhaps overt appreciation; but it’s easier to catch her breath in the quiet, easier to think about something other than the heat of Mako’s gaze on her in silence. Ryuko’s breathing eases, some of the tension in her chest gives way; and it’s just as she’s beginning to collect herself into calm, just as she thinks she might actually be able to achieve the demanded relaxation, that Mako ducks in to huff the heat of an exhale just against her. Ryuko’s whole body tenses, every fiber of her being seizing tight on the sudden rush of sensation that comes with Mako’s breath; and down against her hips, where she’s nestled between Ryuko’s thighs, Mako purrs a sound that dips itself down into a heat Ryuko has never heard from the other girl’s lips before.

“You’re so stressed,” Mako says; and her hands slide up, her fingers dragging out and over Ryuko to curl against the span of the other girl’s hips to brace them both in place together. Mako’s hands are small, her fingers delicate and soft without any of the calluses or scars that so mark Ryuko’s own knuckles and palms; but her grip is stronger than it seems it might be, her hold firm and unflinching as her thumbs fit into the dip of Ryuko’s hipbones. Mako’s arms flex, her full strength bears down to hold Ryuko steady; and then she leans in, and her lips touch against Ryuko’s body, and Ryuko’s throat opens up on a moan she can no more restrain than she can hold back the desperate reach of her hands coming out to brace against Mako’s head.

It’s not that it’s that much sensation. Mako has barely even moved yet; right now it’s just the heat of her lips, the weight of her mouth pressing close against Ryuko’s clit before her. But the warmth is enough, the pressure of Mako’s mouth touching her enough to burn through Ryuko’s blood as if she’s being infused with a dozen life fibers at once; and then Mako hums a note, another one of those low, dark noises in the back of her throat, and Ryuko quivers like a struck bell even before Mako opens her lips to trail her tongue in and against Ryuko’s body. The friction slides up against Ryuko, the heat of Mako’s touch drags wet and slick against her, and her fingers tighten in Mako’s hair, her grip twisting and rumpling into the smooth strands as Mako presses closer and falls into the beginnings of a rhythm to her movement.

Mako is nothing if not thorough. Ryuko has never known anyone else to commit so wholeheartedly to whatever it is they are doing in the moment, and except for food and sleep there are few things that can hold Mako’s attention as entirely as sex. She’ll beg for orgasms, will plead for a fourth and fifth as if its the first one, as if Ryuko hasn’t been working her over for a half hour; and she’ll turn that same attention on Ryuko without missing a beat. She’s learned what Ryuko likes, has memorized the other girl’s sexual preferences as entirely as she’s learned her style in clothing and jewelry, and if Mako’s birthday presents are always uncannily apt it’s nothing on her technique in bed. She’s slow in her movements, deliberate and focused in the perfect opposite of the way she prefers it herself, with the rough force of Ryuko’s fingers driving into her at the pace somewhat faster than humanly possible; but it’s this that Ryuko can feel undoing her, can feel tensing in her thighs and flushing at her nipples and pooling low and heavy and certain in the depths of her abdomen. Her legs are drawing taut under Mako’s hold, she can feel the shudder in them trying to tighten and give away the heat stirring under her skin, but Mako isn’t stopping, isn’t even hesitating in the smooth drag of her tongue as she licks up over Ryuko as if she’s savouring the taste of her. The thought makes Ryuko’s cheeks flush, burns her with the beginnings of that same self-consciousness that always catches her when Mako isn’t wholly distracted from paying attention to her; but it can’t get traction on her focus, not as she is and not when she has Mako pressing her lips close against Ryuko’s clit and sucking a surge of friction out into the other girl’s blood. Ryuko’s shoulders flex, her fingers clutch and pull harder at Mako’s hair than she intended, but Mako doesn’t hiss hurt as Ryuko is always afraid she will. She just purrs again, humming that note of satisfaction that runs straight to fire in Ryuko’s blood with the way they’re positioned, and then she lifts her head to look up and blink wide-eyed heat at Ryuko in front of her.

“Oh wow,” she sighs, sounding so utterly lovestruck that Ryuko almost doesn’t mind that the tone is directed at her, that the obvious appreciation in Mako’s gaze is turned on the expanse of bare skin she has on display. “You’re so  _pretty_.”

Ryuko squeezes her eyes shut, grimacing against the force of those words and that complete, unflinching sincerity in Mako’s tone. “ _Mako_.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mako says, still sounding perfectly composed even as she ducks her head again to resume her efforts. “It’s still true, though!”

“Don’t you have better things to do with your mouth?” Ryuko suggests unsubtly; and then Mako presses her lips to Ryuko’s body once more, and Ryuko shudders in complete disregard of the self-conscious tension that so gripped her under the force of Mako’s gaze. Her lashes flutter, her back arches; and this time, when her hands pull at Mako’s hair to hold the other girl close against her, it’s with a far different goal than just keeping her too-talkative mouth occupied.

Mako is very good at what she does. Ryuko can appreciate that, for the first few seconds, as her breathing sticks in her chest with every drag of Mako’s tongue; as her knees tremble, caught between the desire to angle wider to encourage more friction or tip in to cling to what she’s currently receiving. There’s a level of detail to it, some kind of natural rhythm to the drag of Mako’s tongue, to the press of her lips, to the occasional electrifying drag of her teeth; Ryuko could almost take notes for herself, if she weren’t so utterly distracted by the experience of it. But every time she tries to recall some detail of Mako’s motion Mako makes a low sound in the back of her throat, or slides her tongue up in some long, drawn-out rush of friction, and Ryuko’s focus gives way to a moan she can’t hope to restrain as her focus disintegrates in time with the spike of heat in her veins. Mako is taking her time, lingering over the fit of her lips and the heat of Ryuko under her tongue without any indication of haste in her actions; but Ryuko can feel herself tightening all the same, can feel the knot of want low in her belly curling into a fist of anticipation bright and hot enough to be nearly painful with the ache for more, for more friction and more heat and more--

“Mako,” Ryuko groans, and her voice is dropping off low in her chest but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t even mind how throaty and hot she sounds for the intensity of her focus as the whole of her world narrows in to the tremor in her thighs, to the knot in her belly, to the heat of Mako’s mouth pressing close against her. Her fingers are twisting tighter -- it must be painful for Mako, but the other girl doesn’t so much as hesitate in her motion -- and Ryuko can feel her whole body arching up off the bed, as if the strain rising against her spine is trying to lift her right off the support of the mattress beneath her. Her breathing is straining, her nipples are aching, the whole of her body feels like it’s clinging to some impossible tension; and then Mako’s lips press tight, Mako’s tongue slides in and over her, and Ryuko can feel every muscle in her body spasm at once with the sudden relief that hits her. Her fingers are shaking, her legs are quivering, tensing and easing in time with the waves of sensation rushing through her; and Mako is still leaning over her, still pressing her lips close to the throb of satisfied heat radiating out from Ryuko’s hips as Mako works her through the relief of her orgasm. Ryuko jolts with each fresh surge of heat, feels each one breaking over her like a separate wave of sensation tingling up the whole length of her legs and sparking electric and hot at the back of her head; and then finally the force of them eases, and Mako slows her movement, and Ryuko shuts her eyes and shudders through an exhale as she loosens her hold in Mako’s hair.

She’d like to lie right where she is for a moment, would like to take the time to collect herself back from the distant warmth of satisfaction that has swept over her; but Mako’s hands tighten at her hips, and Mako’s head comes up, and: “Ryuko-chan!” Mako chirps, with all the same breathless enthusiasm she always displays. “How was that?”

“Ah,” Ryuko says, and lifts a hand from Mako’s hair to rub across her own face, to try to pull herself back to coherency from whatever far-off daze she’s fallen into. Her legs are aching, her thighs are still a little shaky from the strain of her climb to pleasure; her voice sounds strange in her chest, like it’s still carrying the resonance of heat on it. She clears her throat in an attempt to level it but she doubts it’s particularly successful. “Good.”

Mako claps her hands together. “I’m so glad!” she says; and then she’s throwing herself forward, reaching out to clasp her hands at Ryuko’s head and letting her full weight land solidly atop the other girl. Ryuko loses her breath with the impact, her exhale gusting out of her with all the elegance that can be contained by the evocative “ _Oof_ ” that follows Mako’s hip landing hard against her stomach; but Mako is shutting her eyes and pursing her lips, and neither a lack of air nor a fast-forming bruise is going to keep Ryuko from that suggested kiss. She reaches up to smooth Mako’s hair back from her face first, moving her hands with care to keep from accidentally tugging at one of the knots she’s worked into the other girl’s hair; but then she has Mako braced carefully between her palms, and she can lift her head to press her mouth against Mako’s patiently-waiting lips. Mako’s mouth is warm against hers, her lips softening out of the tension of expectation as fast as Ryuko touches them, and she parts them as quickly, offering the heat of her mouth for Ryuko’s taking without any prompting at all. Ryuko tastes the inside of Mako’s mouth, touches against the soft heat of the other girl’s tongue; Mako tastes sweet, with a heavy richness that Ryuko can’t quite place, that she can’t quite draw away from. She lingers instead, trying to track down the taste at Mako’s lips, against Mako’s tongue; and then she draws back to catch a breath, and Mako sucks in a deep inhale and says, “Can you taste yourself?” with so much casual unconcern that it takes Ryuko a moment to make sense of her words. They hit the harder for the delay once she does -- Ryuko can feel her whole face glowing to crimson in the span of a few brief seconds as she realizes -- but she sets her jaw against it, and braces her shoulders to force herself back to composure before Mako notices and calls her out on it.

“Yeah,” Ryuko says, her voice still grating down over that accidental depth; and she’s leaning back in to resume kissing Mako, as much as a distraction technique as anything else. She’s trying to hold the other girl’s attention, to keep Mako from noticing the self-conscious flush Ryuko can feel burning all across her cheeks; but Mako doesn’t need any more persuading to give in to this than she ever does. She whimpers a sound of pleased abandon, and throws her arms around Ryuko’s neck; and the next thing Ryuko knows she’s being pulled sideways and turning in and over to push Mako back down to the bed. She’s not entirely sure how this happens -- it’s often difficult to pinpoint the cause of shifts like this, when Mako is involved -- but the fact remains that in a very few seconds Ryuko’s blush has faded over entirely to a flush of warmth instead of the uncomfortable burn that was there before, and that where she was lying languid and content against the sheets she’s now tipped in over Mako beneath her, with one knee slid up high between the other girl’s thighs and a hand bracing her against the sheets so she can slide the other up against the sharp curve of Mako’s waist, can fit her fingers to the silk-soft of the other girl’s skin before drawing up to follow the line of her body to the curve of her breasts. Mako arches up into Ryuko’s touch as soon as the other girl touches her, tightening her hold on Ryuko’s shoulders and parting her lips into a moan of encouragement against Ryuko’s overhot breathing; and Ryuko can’t resist the suggestion of that, even with her entire body achy and exhausted by her own pleasure and Mako’s alike.

“You’re incredible,” she says, the words something between frustration and awe. “Aren’t you ready to be done yet?”

“One more,” Mako begs. When she arches against the bed Ryuko can feel the hard point of the other girl’s nipple pressing against her palm like it’s begging for the friction of her touch. “Please, just one more!”

“You always say that,” Ryuko tells her; but she’s smiling, she can’t help it, and when she slides her hand down it’s only to dip into the soft between Mako’s breasts, to trail her fingers against the give of the other girl’s cleavage before wandering down to the soft of her stomach and the flutter of heat just under her skin. Ryuko angles her fingers down, braces her hand atop Mako’s hips; and then stops, looking up to frown intensity at Mako’s half-lidded eyes and breathless-parted lips. “This really is the last one, okay?”

Mako nods in a rush. “Yes, yes, okay!” she agrees. Ryuko isn’t entirely sure how truthful that promise is -- even if Mako means it in the moment, there’s no certainty she won’t be pleading for more in a matter of minutes -- but there’s nothing but clear honesty in Mako’s wide brown eyes, and it’s hardly as if Ryuko was going to refuse to continue in any case. She heaves a sigh, letting her exhaustion give itself voice as resignation in her throat, and then she slides her hand down and lets her fingers press against Mako’s entrance.

Mako’s reaction is immediate. Ryuko has never been able to decide if Mako really does experience the sensation as intensely as she seems to; it seems impossible, that she should be so undone so immediately just by the press of Ryuko’s fingers pushing up and into her. But there’s no question of her enthusiasm, and no possibility of deception in the full-body tremors that Ryuko works her to; so Ryuko takes Mako’s response as entirely sincere, and lets her mouth curl onto a smile as satisfied by the other’s reaction as she was by her own pleasure. Mako’s letting her hand drop from Ryuko’s shoulder, is reaching up to brace her palm flat at the wall at the top of the bed; and she’s talking, babbling, spilling heat past her lips in a rapidfire rush of encouragement that comes so fast as to be all but nonsensical.

“ _Yes_ ,” is the greatest part of it, “ _Yes_  Ryuko  _god_ good right there  _ah_  Ry _uko-chan_  please don’t stop don’t please yes  _yes_ \--” over and over, a cascade of words as if Ryuko’s touch has unlocked whatever measure of self-restraint Mako usually keeps on herself to leave her babbling heat in an ever-rising pitch of sound. Ryuko leans harder against her hand at the bed beneath them, bracing herself in place to grant extra force to her movement, and when she starts to move harder Mako’s whole body curves in answer, a wave of tension rippling through her from the angle of her shoulders down to the curl of her toes at the end of the bed. Her head tips back, her throat strains on a full-body moan; and Ryuko moves faster, her tired body urged to greater speed more by Mako’s response than by any kind of rational consideration. She has to brace her feet against the sheets, has to lean in hard to keep her knees in place; but beneath her Mako is trembling, is shaking through the whole of her body as she curves beneath Ryuko, as she arches with convulsive tremors of heat at the stroke of the other girl’s hand, and Ryuko isn’t about to stop with Mako’s desperate pleas urging her on. She makes a fist at the sheets beneath them, catches her breath hard over the pound of her heart in her chest, and when she moves it’s only to twist her hand, to angle her thumb up and over so she can press hard against Mako’s clit. That gets her a groan from Mako’s throat and brings the whole of the other girl’s body cresting up into a long shudder of tension; and Ryuko resumes her motion, stroking as fast with her fingers as she can manage to stir heat within the other girl while she keeps the steadying weight of her thumb pressing hard to Mako’s clit.

It’s impossible to estimate time. Ryuko can’t catch her breath; her whole body is shaking with the effort required for this kind of stamina, for this kind of concerted effort. But Mako is arching under her, pleading with every breath whether coherently or otherwise, and the thought of stopping for anything less than an entire exhausted collapse never crosses Ryuko’s mind. She watches Mako instead, fixing her attention to the color staining the other girl’s cheeks, and the curve of her back and the high lift of her breasts, and when she speaks it’s to urge her on, to spur Mako to greater heights instead of soothing back the strain building in her body. “Yes,” Ryuko says, and “Like that,” encouragement hot on her lips and taut in her throat. “You look so good, Mako, keep going, I want to see you come, Mako, just like this, just for me”; and Mako’s fingers clutch, and Mako’s toes curl, and Ryuko can see the crest of pleasure wash Mako’s expression out to slack relief a moment before the heat of it jolts through the other girl’s body like an electrical shock. Mako’s shouting, wailing, letting each surge of sensation through her take shape at her lips as she shudders around the slide of Ryuko’s fingers into her; and Ryuko pants for air, and blinks herself to clarity, and drinks it in: the feel of Mako tightening against her fingers, the heat of satisfaction glowing so bright across Mako’s face, the sound of her voice cracking and breaking over those high notes of pleasure. It’s perfect, beautiful, incandescent in a way that sweeps aside even Ryuko’s exhaustion, until even when she feels the strain reform itself in her body all she can do is duck her head, and sigh relief, and let herself go slack with the satisfaction of it.

Ryuko isn’t sure how long she stays like that. Her thoughts are hazy, her body is aching; everything is warm and sticky and heavy with satisfaction until it’s hard to focus on anything except the present breath, the present heartbeat. She just breathes, slow and deeply as she collects herself, as she appreciates the pause, however brief, in Mako’s demands; and it’s then that Mako’s breathing drags into the sound of a snore, and Ryuko jerks her head up in the first shock of realization.

Mako is still lying right where she was a moment ago; she has both knees angled open and, at present, one arm thrown wide to occupy what space of the bed she wasn’t already filling. Her cheeks are still flushed, her skin still warm with sweat from their recent exertions; and her head is turned to the side, her eyes are shut, and her mouth is open in the most convincing display of sleep Ryuko has ever seen. Ryuko gapes at her for a moment, rationality refusing to believe that Mako could possibly fall asleep so quickly, while Ryuko hasn’t yet eased her fingers free of the heat of the other girl’s body; but Mako doesn’t stir under the force of Ryuko’s attention, there’s not so much as a stutter of self-consciousness in the slow rhythm of her breathing. Ryuko stares at her for long moments, just in case Mako decides she’s had enough of pretending; but there’s no shift in the other girl’s behavior, no indication at all that she’s anything but truly and completely asleep.

“Mako,” Ryuko tries; speaking softly, in case Mako really is unconscious as she appears to be. There’s no response, not so much as a flicker of an eyelash or the tug of a smile. “You’re kidding me.” Ryuko rocks back over her knees and braces a hand against Mako’s hip to steady herself as she draws her touch back and out of the other girl; but Mako barely stirs, only shifting against the bed by a half-inch as her knees angle in. Ryuko stares at her for another span of breaths, wondering if Mako might be a much better actress than Ryuko has ever given her credit for; and finally she huffs a breath as much a laugh as resignation, and leans in over her girlfriend’s sleeping form to press a careful kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she murmurs, mostly for herself rather than for Mako’s apparently genuine sleep. “Sweet dreams, I guess.”

Ryuko takes her time in the shower; there’s a pleasure to rinsing off the salt-sweat of her efforts as much as to letting the heat of the steam around her soak into aching muscles and strip the strain of overwork into the dull, almost-pleasant ache of past exertion. She makes no effort to hurry through the process of washing, or drying off, or brushing her hair; but even after almost a half-hour of lingering in the bathroom Mako is still right where Ryuko left her when she returns to the bedroom. She’s made some minimal concession to comfort, primarily in the form of turning over onto her side and drawing her arms in towards her chest; but otherwise she remains unchanged, still warm and flushed and breathing the slow, deep rhythm of sleep. Ryuko stands in the doorway for a moment gazing at her, still not completely sure if Mako is truly asleep or not; and then she smiles, and steps inside, and lets the door swing shut behind her as she comes in to claim the other half of the bed so she can curl in and fit herself against the curve of Mako’s shoulders and the angle of her knees.

Regardless of Mako’s sincerity, Ryuko thinks she’s earned herself the luxury of a nap.


End file.
